(This is a what-if scenario. It is also to be assumed that Bana and Goten are strangers at this point)

(Cut-scene from Chapter 2 'New family')

"So?" Bana winked. "Give up?"

"Ugh... I guess so, for now. Man, and I [Trunks] haven't even seen you fight--at this rate you could Ki-blast me easily. It's really getting hard to breathe..."

"Stay there, then; let me handle this one." The Saiyan child went away while arching his back. "Nice display of fortitude by the way, Trunks; my [Bana's] dad would applaud it."

"...Say, Bana, why don't you try joining the Junior Tournament? It's gonna be held fairly soon, you see!"

(Cut-scene from Chapter 3 'Prince')

"...*Giggle*... Okay, that's that. Now then, if your father's not going to be home tomorrow, I suppose we could get to see more of this city. How does that sound, Bana?"

"Uh... I'd love to, Mom. But while we were training in that Gravity Chamber, Trunks said something about a Junior Tournament. Sounds like a challenge, and I haven't tried honing my skills for some time now... Will you allow me to be there?"

"Well... I don't see why not. Just don't overdo yourself."

(A/N: Italics are what-if lines added exclusively for this special part)

*3rd POV
Focus: Bana

So it was that, though we are still attempting to settle in this planet, I sought to participate in--or at least snatch a look at--the said Junior Tournament. From what I figured out through asking here and there, it seems this event is where what passed as 'fighters' in Earth gather and strive for the price money--the usual kind of thing.

However, what attracted me is the fact that my own long-lost cousin had mentioned it--which means he'll be there too, for much the same motivations as mine.

Somehow I'm inclined to believe that he will actually take part in it... Oh well, either way, it's gonna be interesting.

Since we were still quite unfamiliar with the ways around town, we had to take a taxi. Its driver informed us that the event is held in turns amidst the four cities of this continent. This time it just happened to be around our East City, but there's always the chance that the event after this is gonna be in the West City--that is, where Uncle's family lives--as there seem to be a good supply of better-quality brawlers in that quarter; including Hercule, someone credited to have saved this very planet from a foreign threat.

"There are also two categories to compete in: the Junior and Adult Divisions," the driver explained. "The Junior one is open to participants from seven to sixteen; the Adult one, for higher."

"Why, then that makes me eligible! I'm ten! For you guys in here, that is..."

"Well, young man, why not try your luck then? Not for the money, I say, but the fame and recognition--now that's quite something else."

"For a common driver, though," Mom put in, folding her arms beside me while Dad took the seat next to the driver, "you sure seem to know a lot already."

"Eh, I make no apologies, Madam. Events like this are our harvest time, so to speak, so we gotta learn a thing or two from them. Who knows if there are others willing to be taken in a common cab, eh, and they'd appreciate good info just before the main show?"

From the rear-view mirror, I could see Mom's slight smile.

"Good info indeed, that was; and do you usually expect an extra tip for it?"

"Ah, that will depend on the passengers' grace, Madam."

He drove on in silence. Only then that I noticed the taxi's meter had been turned off, as if he's already expecting a good deal more after this.

When Mom brought his attention to this, the driver just laughed politely.

As we neared the venue, the traffic begun to cram up as the number of people grew.

"'Fraid wouldn't be able to drop you all right on the gate, sir," the driver said to Dad. "Would half-way be fine?"

Dad looked over his seat for confirmation. Mom, in turn, gave a slight nod.

"Fair enough."

We drove on for a while longer.

"Right; here we are. You're free to alight."

Ahead of us, swarms of people with their chatters and banters went about.

"Wish you luck finding the ticket booths!"

***

Some flags of various colors adorned the main entrance. On the main gate itself was a large banner proclaiming '23rd Tenkaichi Budokai', a.k.a. the 'Strongest One Under the Sky' Tournament. Hmm, pretty grandiose...

"9:02," Dad muttered, looking at the big clock standing close to a lamp-post, "my, and they are still registering? Just how grand is this event supposed to be?"

"I didn't remember you hating crowds, honey."

"Said no such thing."

"Well, why don't we try find some snack stalls to while away the time?" I suggested.

"What kind of stall?"

"I've always wanted to try what they name 'ice cream'... Ah, there, found it!"

Heh~ so this is ice cream... Certainly a lot smaller than those in Dalomar Planet, though still served in cones. There are also many flavors, and I took one whose color resembled that of my hair.

"How much?"

"50 Zeni each, Ma'am."

"Such a price?" Mom raised an eyebrow.

The seller shrugged, eyeing me who's already licking at my share.

She sighed. "Got it. Here."

"Always thankful."

Still with half our respective ice creams, next we went to look at the registration desk. A queue was already forming up.

"Seems this is where they decide which fighter enters which division..." Dad commented.

...Hey, that's Trunks... right? Who's that boy he's with..?

"Bana."

"Y-yes?"

"Finish it first."

"Then, I may try follow him?"

"Who?"

"Trunks."

"Is he here?"

"I saw him! Can I, Mom? Can I?"

"...Only after we've got our seats."

To the inquiries of the registration desk's attendants, we replied that we would not be participating. At one point we noticed another queue in front of a machine. Some obese guy was taking records.

"What is that?" Mom asked a random guy dressed like a black-belt karate master.

"That, sugar, is known as the Punching Machine. They sure wanna keep track of everything, even the strength of punches. Don't wanna have to deal with too fatal accident, oughta think."

Dad eyed the explaining guy with distaste, for some reason. The karate guy looked over Mom's shoulder and blinked.

"Yer little candy?"

"As it happens, he is; and I'm taken, so better not screw up."

"Heh!" he brushed a finger against the bridge of his own nose, "no worries, I know just the right place for it. This black belt's not for jokes, ya see!"

Hmm. Seems Mom's on herself just fine.

"Next," the obese guy in front announced, looking up from his tabs, "is Contestant #18! Please record your strength as to the Machine."

"Hey, heads up," another baldy guy smirked, "#18's quite a hot cake!"

"Yeah," the karate guy imitated him, "I'd rather she knocks me anytime~!"

...Oh? This contestant seems to be a female... and with blond hair too, just like Mom. On her first try the Machine came away with the estimated punch-strength of 770 even though she barely touched it. Even after a repeat, the points only got reduced by 30.

This sent shivers to the jerks poking fun at her just minutes ago; even more so when another line of 'phenomenal' fighters showed up and tested the Machine in succession; one of whom was Uncle Vegeta, and he ended up making the attendants search for a replacement for the Machine, having smashed it clear.

So Trunks is here after all! Aunt Bulma might too; that's a given.

"...If they're in the rolls, I might as well go home..."

***

Fifteen minutes later.

Our seats for the game are secured, and so my next stop is in front of a spacious room where the participants for the Junior Division is putting their last touches. My cousin, I noticed, is still conversing with that strange boy from before while leaning against the wall, his arms folded. It is then that another blonde with his two 'attendants' (since they're no better to pass as anything else to me), approached.

"Yo, Pipsqueak!" he's referring to Trunks, "are you ready to beg already, 'cause if you're gonna be my opponent I'll smack you so hard to the ground, they'll never find you! But first, as I'm the kind type, let me give you a little demonstration..."

Duh. Lame--and indeed, Trunks did not appear to buy it, even when threatened with a feint. He just blinked, before throwing a mocking 'Oh, really?' at him.

"...Seems like I'm gonna take a look around," I heard him say sometime later, and headed my way.

"Yo."

"...Oh, what's the--Heck, Bana!" Cousin became very pale, "s-so you really came..."

"Don't give me that look. You asked for it."

"D-does this mean you're in--"

"Nah; out. I'll just be watchin' you browbeat that punk just now, if he's that lucky. Mind?"

He gulped. "No, no, you're very welcome. Fact is, my mom's gonna watch too, she said, so you might run into her. Came here alone?"

"Don't be foolish--with my parents of course. Say, who's that half-pint you were with?"

"Name's Goten. Could be my opponent at some point here."

I growled. "You're being nice to him, or it's just me?"

"Hey, come on, I know you've Saiyan blood, but so are we both. Moreover, I've known him longer than ya."

"...That so?"

"Believe me in this. Hope you'll get to see a good fight, then. Oh, hey, mind telling me why you're not joining?"

"Lost interest. Too many weaklings around, take that blonde loudmouth for example."

"Well, you're blond yourself," he snickered. "So you did estimate he's not worth much too, ey?"

I sniffed. "That bag of air won't last three knocks from you, mark that."

"Got it. With you, though, I'd make it one. Now, would that make me far gentler, I wonder..."

"Depends. Oh, there's the referee already--see ya!"

"Wait! You're rooting for me, aren't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Think you're not a little too old for that? I wouldn't. Bye!"

"Aww, you're no fun, Coz..."

***

"...And now, the fifth match in the Junior Division: eight-year-old Trunks vs fifteen-year-old Idasa!" came the announcement from an also-blond referee.

...Oh, so that dope's name is Idasa, huh.

Presently, that Idasa is getting into the arena side by side with Cousin; and soon they are standing facing each other. Of course I could not hear what goes on between them, until the referee allowed their match to begin--and indeed, that blond punk was down with two moves from Cousin.

Aside from this, after winning a breathtaking fight against the boy he referred to as 'Goten', Trunks also was permitted a honorary match against Hercule, the rumored 'champion' of the planet--but whether he had ran past his prime time since then or he's just bluffing from the start, this newcomer was sent flying out of the arena in just one flick of Cousin's punch; heck, that did not even qualify as a 'punch' to me!

I made this clear when I came across him again.

"You sure gave those two clear thrashing..."

"Seems like it; but I'm not very sure 'bout that Hercule geezer. Seems he's losing for some purpose. Now, to you--how did you enjoy the fights?"

"You sure have trained well."

"...Come on, are you mocking me? Aside from Goten, the other two were sorry excuses for opponents! You noticed too, right?!"

"...Don't get so heated up, now--"

He glared back at me.

"...You're one to talk, Bana. Why, why didn't YOU get to fight?! This match may have gotten more lively if you did!"

For some time we locked stares.

"Are you saying you'd like to fight me, now?"

"Don't give me that crap! Why else would you display your skills in the Gravity Chamber with so much arrogant ease? Tell me!"

...Excellent point.

"We might--one of these days. Patience. Even your dad has this, I suppose."

***

Opinions about Bana's immersion in the Tournament? :D